Desperate Times
by Zivacentric
Summary: SPOILERS FOR "DESPERATE MAN" episode. This is a tag for that ep that picks up from that tender scene between Ziva & Gibbs in the last couple of minutes of the show. Starts with comfort; becomes romantic Zibbs in Ch 3.
1. Lost, But Found

_A/N:_ _For the second time this season, I find myself writing an episode tag. Ultimately, I just could not resist that ending to "Desperate Man" and one of the later scenes you'll read came to me and just begged to be written. I get nervous when I write and post quickly as I did with this, so I do hope you enjoy it and that you'll let me know if you do. There will be two more chapters that will be put up within the next 24 hours for sure, before the next airing of NCIS in the States._

_This is one dedicated to those who - ahem - urged me to consider writing this. In order of the "You have to tag this!" appearance, they are **Sarah Withers** (thanks for the extra votes of confidence, my friend!), **gosgirl** (who deserves an honorable mention for her persistance), **iyimgrace** (who refused to actually push me and deserves a medal for trying to save me from myself, but the plot bunny and I refused to cooperate - !), **Bamacrush** (ditto on the persistance) and **LauraEve24** (who gets points for totally making me smile with her suggestion). Oh, and rumor has it that **Kesterpan** even joined the bandwagon, as well. :p I do believe **Sehrezad** and **Cherokee Jedi** will also be glad to see this. :p _

_I would also like to welcome **Ziver69** to the world of writing Zibbs. She has an EXCELLENT tag to this episode started called "What She Needs." If you haven't read it, you should. =) And now ... happy reading!_

* * *

><p><em>Previously on NCIS …<em>

Ziva strode purposely through the airport door without even the hint of an urge to look back.

Without speaking, she got into the car beside Gibbs, looking forward until he spoke, glancing his way to find he was now gazing forward himself.

"CIA confirms that Ray violated orders by taking out Norton on U.S. soil." He paused for a moment. "He's done." There was a finality about his tone that was impossible to miss. He looked back at her now, even as she turned her face away again.

His heart ached for her at the lost, pained looked in her eyes that she didn't – or couldn't - hide from him. His feelings for her had always been more complicated than straightforward, but right now all he wanted to do was take care of her – and kick Cruz's ass to hell and back if the opportunity ever came.

Gibbs raised a hand and tenderly cupped the back of her head, rubbing gently, communicating more in that one gesture than most people could have in an entire monologue.

"What can I do?" he asked simply, the concern in his tone nearly her undoing.

Blinking back the tears that suddenly stung her eyes in the face of his gentleness, she took a breath and shook her head slightly. She had no words yet for the maelstrom of emotions beginning to run through her as the frozen place inside her began to thaw, so she succinctly answered, "Drive. Just drive."

Without another word, he removed his hand from her neck, started the car and drove.

Ziva glanced at him wordlessly as he did, grateful that he was with her. Gibbs was the one man she trusted completely and he was one of only two people in her life who could just be with her and not push her to talk, yet would implicitly understand where she was emotionally and find ways to support her even if she didn't say a word.

Most others would have guessed that Ziva would have wanted to be alone right now; those people would have been wrong. Gibbs knew her well enough to know that, too.

Jethro was silent as he piloted the car away from the airport and out onto the expressway. Going with his gut, he got off at the first exit and took the back roads, prolonging their ride. She wanted him to drive and drive he would. Besides, he had personal experience with how being closed within the confines of a car, moving yet with little-to-no effort required, could allow a mind to wander and a heart to just … be, emotions slowly settling out. He wouldn't have wanted her at the wheel just now as distracted as she was by all that had happened, but he also knew the two of them could be together for hours in companionable silence.

And, truth be told, he wanted to be the only one with her just now.

Ziva looked out the side window as they rode along, feeling no pressure to speak and absorbing the gentle strength emanating from the man beside her. Initially, she fought to keep all of her emotions in a tightly closed and locked strongbox, wanting to simply cut them off and lose herself in the numbness. Eventually, though, she cautiously let them out one by one, acknowledging them … Hurt. Anger. Betrayal. Sadness.

And those just scratched the surface.

Those emotions would get more attention later. Below those, her usually-well-camouflaged insecurity, that painful worry that perhaps no one wanted her for herself was stabbing her like a thousand needles … that certainty that, when all was said and done, she was wanted for what she could do rather than because she was simply lovable.

She took a deep breath and swallowed the tears that threatened at that. She simply didn't have the resources to tackle that just now and refused to wallow in it when she could be angry – angry at Ray, but even angrier at herself.

It was getting dusk when Ziva became aware that the car had stopped. As she gradually tuned into her surroundings, she realized Gibbs had driven to her apartment. It was a bit startling that she had no memory of how they'd gotten there and that so much time had passed since they'd left the airport.

She turned toward Gibbs to find him looking at her with a slight smile tugging one corner of his lips.

"My car is back at NCIS," was the first thing that popped into her mind and out of her mouth.

"Mhm. We'll get it – tomorrow or whenever you're ready," he answered matter-of-factly. "Right now we're going to pack you a bag and go to my house."

Her brows drew together in confusion. "Gibbs –"

"Look, Ziver," he broke in gently, putting that warm hand against the back of her neck once more. She couldn't help but close her eyes and lean into it. "We don't have to talk or even be in the same room if that's what you want, but I don't think you should be alone tonight … and don't think you really wanna be."

Tears threatened again, so she kept her eyes closed until she was fairly certain she could open them without bawling like a baby.

Taking a deep breath, she opened herself to the prospect he'd put in front of her. The truth was he'd nailed it – she didn't want to be completely alone, yet she still didn't want to feel pressured to talk. The only people who came close to meeting that need when it struck were Gibbs and her best friend, Alona. Given that Alona lived in Central America these days, she was not an option. Besides, all she really wanted tonight was Gibbs.

In a well-practiced move, she resolutely forced her more complicated feelings for him back in the box in which she'd kept them for years marked "Do Not Disturb Under Penalty of Breaking Rule 12." God only knew what the price of that would be, but she was certain it was higher than she wanted to pay.

She finally lifted her lids to find him looking at her, that gently caring look still in his eyes. The hand at the back of her head had never lifted, silently reassuring her of his presence.

She allowed the ghost of a smile to curve her lips and nodded her agreement to his words.

They entered her apartment and he sent her off to pack a few things.

"Don't forget your jammies," he teased lightly.

"My 'jammies'?" Ziva asked, disbelief coloring her tone. "I am not a child, Gibbs."

"Oh, I noticed." There was something extra in his voice that made her stomach drop a little, but nothing in his eyes suggested there was any hidden meaning behind his statement.

She looked at him for a moment, but then found she couldn't hold his gaze. Without another word, she went to her room. She quickly peeled off the olive coat, white sweater and dark pants she'd been wearing. She left the coat on the bed, but tossed the clothing into her hamper. Yearning to feel more comfortable, she pulled on soft black yoga pants with a tight, fitted powder blue tank and a hoodie in that same color.

Stepping into the bathroom, she washed her face and combed out her hair, completing the process of physically shedding the day. She gave a fleeting thought to re-applying make-up, but shrugged it off. She just wanted to be as … light, as unencumbered as possible; God knew her heart was heavy enough for the rest of her. Besides, she wasn't sure how much she'd end up talking, but she didn't want even that layer between her and Gibbs tonight. She refused to examine just why that was.

She quickly packed a duffle with her "jammies" – and cracked a smile that took her by surprise as his words rang in her ears. She included a toothbrush and some clean clothes for tomorrow. The next day was Saturday and they weren't scheduled to work, so she kept it casual. She tucked in a headband and shoved a ponytail holder in the pocket of her hoodie. She was leaving her hair down for now, but it would undoubtedly start bugging her and need to be pulled back again at some point.

She returned to the living room to find Gibbs standing at her window, his coat still on, his hands - capable of the deadliest to the gentlest of touches - in his pockets. She took a moment to stand in the doorway just to absorb him again, then stepped into the room.

"I am ready," she announced quietly even as he turned unerringly toward her, sensing her presence.

His characteristic smile brightened his eyes and he simply said, "Let's go."

She slipped on a casual, but warm jacket that she had hanging near the door and they returned to the agency car he was still driving without another word.

He made one stop on the way to his house: her favorite Chinese restaurant. She looked at him with doubt on her face.

"Gibbs, I am not hungry," she started despite the fact that she couldn't actually recall the last time she had eaten in the past couple of days.

"Maybe not now, but you gotta eat sometime," he pointed out sensibly. "You still like vegetable deluxe and sesame chicken?"

Her heart warmed that he remembered and she couldn't help the small smile that graced her lips. Silently, she nodded.

"Be right back," he assured her and left her to wait in the car as he went in to get them some dinner.

Before long, he was back and handed her the paper bag to hold while he finished the drive home. Despite her earlier assertion, her stomach growled at the fragrant smells emanating from the bag. He threw a knowing smirk her way, which pulled a light, self-deprecating snort from her.

They arrived at his house and she carried the food while he grabbed her overnight bag. Of the same mind, they headed to his basement after shedding their coats. Without a word, he cleared a space on his work table and they sat side-by-side on the bench in front of it, sharing the food straight from the cartons. He poured them both a finger of bourbon into the obligatory mason jars and Ziva welcomed the liquid fire as it slid down her throat to mingle with the food she hadn't even realized she'd needed. But he had.

He took their empty containers to put in the trash in the kitchen and returned to the basement after he'd changed into some gray sweats and a long black tee with a short-sleeved black USMC t-shirt over it. He carried along a pile of blankets, a pillow and … a mug of tea?

She looked up at him in surprise as he handed her the drink. "You have tea?"

He smirked, then turned away to make a soft pile of bedding for her in case she just wanted to crash. "Yeah, but don't rat me out. Abby's the only other one who knows."

A slight grin threatened to break out across her lips, but she held it in check. "Your secret is safe with me, Gibbs."

"I know," he responded softly yet warmly, his back to her as he finished messing with the blankets.

She looked at the cushiony spot, then cocked a brow at him as he turned back to look at her. "Is that a hint to get my jammies on and hit the straw?"

He grinned. "Hay, Ziver." She rolled her eyes.

"No hint. Just there if you want it." He went to the saw horses where his latest project was waiting and began to pick up the work where he'd last left it.

"What is that?" she asked as she moved to settle on the blankets with her tea, sitting up and leaning back against the wall. She was grateful that he'd known she'd prefer the warm drink to burying her sorrows in more bourbon – though a shot of that had hit the spot earlier.

"Dollhouse for Amira," he noted. "Her birthday's coming up."

She smiled as she thought of the beautiful little girl and her mother, as well. Ziva and Leyla had become friends, finding common ground in being immigrants in a new country and from being born in the same part of the world.

She sat lost in her thoughts after that, her mind going back to earlier of its own volition. The hurt and betrayal gripped her at first, though she quickly moved onto anger – not only toward Ray, but also at herself.

Feeling agitated, she rose to place her empty mug on the work bench, then started pacing the confines of the basement. Gibbs just glanced at her from time to time out of the corner of his eyes, keeping an eye on her without being obvious about it. She started muttering in Hebrew and gesturing with her hands, signaling that her pent-up emotion was getting the best of her.

She itched to go for a run, but didn't really want to be away from Gibbs and wasn't sure he'd let her leave anyway.

He laid down his tools and moved behind a partial wall without saying a word. She was too far into her own head to even notice. As he dragged a standing punching bag out into the clearest space in the room, however, she stopped her pacing in its tracks.

"Gibbs?" she questioned, her brows beetled.

Still without a word, he disappeared behind the wall again and returned with a wad of bandage and a pair of boxing gloves.

"Going twenty rounds with this usually helps me when I get to the pissed off stage – figure it's the same for you," he noted perceptively. He held up what was in his hands. "Gloves or wrap?"

She looked at him wordlessly for a moment, astounded at just how well he knew her – and not completely sure she was comfortable with it. With a slight shake of her head, she pointed to the wraps. He wasn't surprised.

"Hold out your hands," he ordered. She complied.

He ripped off the first length from the roll and started with her right hand. For the first time he noticed the faint redness already across her knuckles that would surely be a bruise by tomorrow. He looked from her hand to her eyes, an eyebrow lifted silently in question.

"I punched him," she answered succinctly, daring him to say something with the look in her own eyes.

"That's my girl," he said with unmistakable approval, holding her gaze purposefully.

Her lips twitched as her battered heart healed a little more.

Once he had her ready to go, he turned back to his project, giving her the emotional and physical space she needed.

Ziva circled the bag a few times, giving it a few half-hearted punches at first. Then, the visceral pleasure of her fists connecting with the leather pulled her in and everything else faded away as her anger morphed into fury and she took it all out on the bag.

Gibbs watched her surreptitiously, satisfaction sitting in his gut. Occasionally, she muttered in Hebrew, but other than that, she spoke not a word nor even looked at him. He didn't mind; all he cared about was that she got what she needed.

At one point she started sweating and Ziva stopped to yank her hair up into a ponytail and unzip her sweatshirt so she could throw it carelessly out of the way. Then, still without a word or even acknowledging that he was in the same room, she returned to sparring with the bag.

He tried not to notice how sexy she looked in that fitted tank dampened with her own sweat, but that was a losing battle.

He fielded a call from DiNozzo who was concerned that he couldn't raise Ziva on her cell and that her car was still at NCIS. He was glad Tony had been driven to check up on his partner; Gibbs was equally happy to be able to say that Ziva was with him, but he didn't examine that too closely.

Ziva gave no outward sign that she'd even noticed that his phone had rung.

She kept at it until her limbs started to quiver from the exertion and her mind was finally clear. Leaning into the bag, she laid her cheek against the leather and wrapped her arms around it, catching her breath. Her eyes were closed.

After giving her a minute to settle, he laid down the sandpaper he was using and walked over to her. With that gentle hand smoothing down her tail of hair, he reminded her he was there. Without a sound, she turned and burrowed into his chest, her hands circling around to grip the back of his shirt as best she could with the wraps still on.

His shirt soaked up her silent tears and he just held her, not saying a word.

After several minutes she released a deep sigh and leaned all her weight against him.

"Thank you … Gibbs," she whispered, the exhaustion that had suddenly hit her coloring her tone.

"Anytime, Ziver," he answered, nothing but truth ringing in his words.

They stood for a moment longer, just leaning together.

"How 'bout a shower and those jammies?" he asked softly, his characteristic half-smile evident in his voice.

She couldn't stop the slight chuckle that left her throat.

"That sounds good," she admitted.

Keeping an arm over her shoulders, he led her up to his room, grabbing her bag on the way. He took her straight into the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom and pulled out a towel and washcloth for her. She had started unwrapping her hands and he took over the process, wanting to inspect any damage she'd inflicted on herself. Uncharacteristically, she let him.

_Not too bad_ he thought to himself, running his thumbs lightly over the red, scraped knuckles.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he asked, "Got everything you need?"

She nodded, leaving the unwittingly-loaded part of his question unaddressed.

He left her to do her business and went to turn down the sheets on his bed. She would sleep here tonight and he'd bunk on the couch. He most often did that, anyway. His dick twitched at the mere thought of her in his bed, even without him in it with her, but he did his best to ignore it.

He had never admitted it to anyone – and had barely acknowledged it to himself – but his feelings for Ziva were far more complex than he'd ever let on. Yes, he cared about her as a member of his team and as a friend. He also wanted her like he hadn't wanted anyone since Shannon, but that was undoubtedly the road to nothing but hell in more ways than one. Plus, she surely didn't return those feelings or she wouldn't have gotten this seriously involved with Ray.

Still, when DiNozzo had off-handedly suggested that Gibbs get ready to play father-of-the-bride, his first urge had been to rip his Very Special Agent's head off. But, thankfully, his mask had stayed in place. Looking at his computer after a brief glance of understated surprise at Ziva, he'd mumbled that he was happy for her. He'd nearly done a fist pump when she'd hastened to add that it wasn't a done deal. He'd offered that, if it was right, it would be, but had left off the part where he hoped it wasn't.

Of course, that wasn't fair of him. He cared for her enough – both as a friend and more – to want her to be happy. He just couldn't help it if he was less-than-thrilled that her happiness would probably be connected to someone other than a grumpy old Marine with rules that really seemed like good ones … even if he was having more and more trouble remembering why Rule 12 should be kept sacred where she was concerned.

Meanwhile, Ziva stood under the shower, running the water as hot as she could stand it. For a long time, she just let the water wash over her, ready for the time being to allow all the whirling thoughts in her head to go down the drain with the warm liquid. Gradually, she roused herself enough to begin washing up. She hadn't thought she'd need her shampoo and body wash, so she hadn't packed it. She reached for his shampoo and washed her hair, wryly noting that her curls would undoubtedly be a little wilder than usual without her conditioner.

As she lathered her hands with his soap, the scent of him filled her nostrils and stirred her belly. How something as simple as Irish Spring could smell sexy she had no idea, but it surely did on him. And tonight she was going to sleep with the smell of him with her, on her skin. Refusing to examine that thought more closely, she wrapped the knowledge close and allowed it to comfort her.

Eventually, she left the shower, toweled off and slipped on her nightclothes. Her lips twitched when she thought of Gibbs calling them her "jammies," but guessed the term was apt enough. She wore light cotton plaid pants that were primarily navy blue and white, coupled with a scooped-necked matching plain navy top with cap sleeves. She squeezed most of the moisture out of her hair with the towel and combed it out the best she could. After rubbing her nightly moisturizer on her face, she opened the door and stopped when she found Gibbs sitting on the bed.

She shyly tucked her hair behind her ear, causing him to smile as he stood up. Wordlessly, he held up the covers and motioned for her to get in.

"I cannot take your bed, Gibbs," she protested. "I will sleep on the couch."

"I usually rack there," he admitted, "so the bed's all yours."

After a moment of silence, she walked over and climbed in, a twinkle that reminded him of the Ziva she had become during her time at NCIS – not the wounded one who'd returned and needed to be cared for tonight – came into her eyes as he tucked her in. She refrained from pointing out that he was treating her like a little girl, but he knew that's what she was thinking.

He smiled with his eyes, but didn't say a word.

She lay back against his pillows and looked up at him, a mix of gratitude and something unreadable in her eyes. "Thank you, Gibbs," she offered softly for a second time that night.

"For what?" he asked.

"For being here … in exactly all the ways I needed you to be." She paused, glancing away before looking back at him. "For being the person I trust most in the world."

His half-smile kicked up one corner of his mouth. "Always, Ziver. And that goes both ways."

She smiled as her eyes started getting heavy. It had been quite a day, after all … quite a few days, actually.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and told her to come get him if she needed anything. As he rose, she asked if he had a sweatshirt or something he could lay out in case she got cold. He nodded and laid his red USMC hooded sweatshirt on the top of his dresser for her.

"Goodnight, Gibbs," she murmured. She was turned on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, already half-asleep.

"Night," he returned, stopping in the doorway to look back at her for several long minutes, trying not to think about how right she looked lying there in his bed.

He went down to the basement for a while longer, before scooping up the blankets he'd brought down for her earlier and heading to the couch. Making up his own bed, he allowed sleep to claim him, as well.


	2. Waking Up

_A/N: THANK YOU for the great responses to this! As promised, here is Chapter 2 already and Chapter 3 will be up tomorrow, as early in the day as I can pull it off. I will respond to all the reviews, favorites and alerts as quickly as I can - for this AND for "Brewed Awakenings;" until then, know that I appreciate them VERY much. *hugs* I do believe sandlinerica broke a speed record in getting her review up :p, with the rest of you not far behind. (I loved that! LOL) :D_

_Here's a special shout-out to boymommytotwo and Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs just because I love ya and I appreciate your consistent enthusiasm for my writing more than I can really say. xoxo_

_Thanks, thecookiemomma, for giving my Zibbs stories a try and enjoying them; glad to have you along for the ride. :) _

_DISCLAIMER: I neglected to say in the 1st chapter that all the usual disclaimers apply to Ziva, Gibbs, NCIS and the rest of its characters. Alona, however, is all mine. _

* * *

><p>A couple of hours later, Gibbs' eyes suddenly opened, his sixth sense bringing him out of a sound slumber. Sensing a presence on his right, he turned his head quickly to find Ziva in the chair nearby. She was enveloped in his red sweatshirt and had her knees pulled up so her chin rested on them, her arms wrapped around her lower legs. She was staring out the window. The moonlight was just strong enough to allow him to see the faint tracks of moisture on her cheeks, testimony to the fact that she'd been crying.<p>

His movement brought her out of her reverie and she looked at him with troubled eyes.

"I am sorry, Gibbs," she husked. "I did not mean to wake you."

"'s all right, Ziver," he murmured. "You wanna talk?"

She shook her head no, her eyes going back to gazing out at the night.

"I just wanted to be closer to you," she admitted in a hoarse whisper that made his heart ache.

He looked at her for a moment, then sat up. Lifting the corner of his blanket, he suggested, "You'd be closer over here."

Without a word, she practically dove over to him and ended up snuggled up against his left side, her cheek and her left hand resting against his chest. He tucked the blanket back around them and stretched his legs out to rest on the low coffee table in front of the couch.

She sighed, partly in contentment, partly due to the mix of emotions still churning within her.

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head, giving comfort and silent encouragement. She was wound tight as a spring. It seemed she'd reached the point where she needed to let some of it out verbally, but she was fighting it. He recognized the signs; he'd done the same thing on more than one occasion.

"Want me to get the punching bag back out?" he asked, giving her an opening she might take.

She huffed out a light snort and shook her head no. Another sigh followed.

"I am still angry, but I am too tired to punch," she offered. She'd started talking; he took that as a good omen.

"Tell me about the angry part," he encouraged her, knowing it would be easier for her to start there.

After a moment she did, the hand on his chest clenching his shirt hard enough to make her knuckles white – the only outward sign of her emotions. "I am so angry at Ray … angry that he ruined the lives of Detective Burrows and his wife; angry that he thought he could clean things up so that we – _I_ – would not figure it out; angry that he stood me up at dinner while he was killing a woman whose only crime was to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, a woman who was simply trying to make the world a safer place …"

Her voice had gotten tighter and faster as she spoke. She paused. When she spoke again, her tone was even harsher than before.

"But do you know who I am truly furious with? Even more than Ray?"

"Who?" he murmured.

"Myself," she all but spat out.

Suddenly, she could not stand sitting any longer and pushed up to pace around the room.

"I was actually considering _settling_ for marriage with a man that I knew deep down I could not trust. A man who would leave for weeks on end and I would not know where he was. A man I did not really even love. Oh, I wanted to – because I wanted to be wanted, wanted to believe that someone wanted something permanent with me, wanted a family with me … that someone could actually love me."

Her voice broke at the end and her fury ran out of steam.

"What is wrong with me, Gibbs?" She looked at him pleadingly in the shadows.

"Nothing, Ziver," he assured her. "Nothing's wrong with you."

"I think you must be mistaken," she whispered, silent tears spilling over to run down her cheeks once more.

He raised the blanket and husked, "C'mere." She didn't move at first, then he repeated the gentle command and she returned to be wrapped back up against him once more.

"No mistake," he disagreed in a voice that brooked no argument. "And when it's right, you'll find someone else who knows that, too; someone who won't leave you feeling like you're settling."

She shrugged and shook her head slightly, clearly too raw tonight to even entertain the idea that he was right.

He smoothed his hands down her hair and over her back, offering comfort. He was tearing Ray Cruz limb from limb in his mind, but none of that registered through his touch.

She slowly started to relax against him.

"But, Ziva?"

"Yes?" she responded softly.

"Don't sign me up for father-of-the-bride duty when you do," he requested quietly, his voice telegraphing none of the reasons why.

She withdrew a little, a mix of emotions running through her, one of which was hurt that he was distancing himself a step from her. He read that correctly and placed a finger under her chin to tilt her face up to his.

"Won't be able to give you away," he revealed. "Don't ask me to."

The look in his eyes was unreadable. She had the feeling he was trying to tell her something, but she was too off balance tonight to trust her instincts.

"I have a father, Gibbs, imperfect though he may be." She looked at him, the pounding of her heart the only indication that his words stirred something deep within her. "I do not need another one."

He gave that single affirmative nod of his, then pulled her back to him, resting his cheek on her hair.

They sat in silence until they fell asleep once more, wrapped in each other's arms.

The sun shone through the window several hours later and struck Ziva's face, causing her to turn her head sharply. Her nose bumped into a warm throat and she slowly registered a strong, well-defined chest under her cheek. She rubbed her face sensuously against it, instinctively recognizing Gibbs on the outskirts of her mind. His arms tightened around her, keeping her exactly where she was.

Before she was really awake, she thought _Mmmmm … I like waking up next to you_.

The sudden stillness in the arms that held her made her freeze. _Oh, God._

"Please tell me that I did not just say that out loud," she begged quietly, keeping her eyes tightly closed.

"Say what out loud?" he murmured almost lazily.

His voice was even and he did not move his head from where it rested on the back of the couch or even open his eyes.

Because he didn't seem freaked out, she slowly relaxed back against him and drifted back to sleep.

The next time they awoke, she got up to shower again in another attempt to tame her hair while he went to make coffee. His voice stopped her as she started up the stairs.

"Hey, Ziver?"

She looked back at him, her eyebrows raised in silent question.

"Like waking up with you, too."

She blushed, but the twinkle in his eyes and the affection in his half-smile eased her embarrassment and caused a feeling of warmth to pool in her stomach … and popped the lid just a little on that "Rule 12" box she kept buried inside.


	3. Thankfully, Sometimes You're Wrong

_Eight months later …_

Ziva slipped into a brand new silk and lace black teddy, satisfaction in her gaze as she admired the look in the mirror. She had plans for tonight and this was but one detail of many in her preparations.

She had lasagna baking in the oven, its fragrant smell drifting through the apartment. She'd showered using a new sultry-smelling gel that was a heady mix of musk and orchids and had rubbed the matching lotion into her skin. She'd picked it up on her recent trip to visit her friend Alona again in Costa Rica and was hoping it would prove irresistible to the man she'd invited for dinner.

There was a simple but sexy black dress to go over that teddy, but before she could put it on her doorbell rang long and insistently. She frowned a bit, wondering who could be at the door. She wasn't expecting her guest for another half hour and not many people even knew she was back yet.

She'd first gone to visit Alona eight months ago after the fiasco with Ray, needing more than their usual e-mails and Skyping to further the healing of her bruised heart, not to mention her pride. She and Alona had met during their mandatory service in the Israeli Defense Force when they were eighteen and had been fast friends ever since, even attending Hebrew University together.

While Ziva's future had been pre-determined to include Mossad, Alona had chosen to work for her father's large, international security firm after college, traveling all over the world. Her mother was Israeli and her father was Spanish, so theirs was a multi-lingual household. Alona had a gift for languages that rivaled Ziva's and it served her well as she worked her way up the ranks at her father's company.

For nearly a year now, she'd been living in Costa Rica, opening a new branch of their security firm and overseeing every aspect of making it a success. This was the longest she'd lived in any one place since college.

Ziva's first trip had lasted two weeks. She'd broached the idea to Gibbs a couple of days after spending that night at his house … the night that had done more for starting her on the path to healing - and more - than he would ever know. She'd told him about Alona and he'd agreed that the trip might do her good, warming her heart when he asked that she check in with him from time to time so he'd know she was all right. Within a few days, she'd flown out.

Despite the fact that the two women had not seen each other in person in more than two years, Alona had welcomed Ziva with open, excited arms. During the visit, she had alternately cosseted and prodded Ziva gently when she thought it was called for until Ziva had eventually told her everything … not only about Ray, but about her own feelings of insecurity. She also must have revealed more about Gibbs than she thought, as Alona guessed near the end of her stay that Ziva had feelings for her boss that went beyond a working relationship or even friendship. She'd encouraged Ziva to pay attention to that when she was ready and was certain that she would know when she was.

After she'd returned to DC, Ziva had quickly fallen back into the routine at work. Gibbs must have given the rest of the team strict orders to refrain from asking Ziva about Ray, as not even Tony brought him up. She was glad to allow that chapter to recede further into the past.

To her surprise – and pleasure – she and Gibbs developed a few routines of their own outside of work. The Saturday after she got back from Costa Rica that first time, she'd invited him over for dinner. He'd accepted and it had become a weekly occurrence. She was also an even more regular visitor to his basement, to the point that he'd put a loveseat down there for her to curl up on rather than use the nest of blankets he'd made for her on _that _night and on many subsequent nights, as well.

They became even closer, though they continued to ignore the sizzle that arced between them on a regular basis, the attraction that had always been there intensifying as time went on.

Finally, Ziva realized that Alona was right. She was completely in love with Gibbs and it was time to take a chance on that, on what she _really _wanted, even if that meant she had to make other changes in her life. They would be worth it if a relationship with Gibbs came out of them.

She wasn't completely sure Gibbs returned her feelings, but she had enough of a hint that he might to risk admitting to hers. If he did, Rule 12 said she needed a new job. If he didn't, she wasn't sure that she'd be able to continue sitting next to him day after day as though nothing had changed.

She took another trip back to Costa Rica to see her friend in person, both to boost her confidence with some face-to-face talking and to explore some work-related possibilities that Alona had mentioned several times since Ziva's first visit.

Ziva also contacted Human Resources at NCIS from Costa Rica on the morning she was flying back home, casually inquiring about possible openings within the agency that might be a good fit for her. There was a need for a new weapons and self-defense instructor, which could be right up her alley. She'd miss the investigative work, but it was something to consider. She'd set up an interview with them for next week.

A loud pounding on her apartment door followed the persistent ringing of her doorbell. Ziva quickly slipped a long silk emerald green robe over her sexy underwear and went to answer the door.

Before she could get there, a voice that was unmistakably Gibbs hollered, "Open this door, Ziva, or so help me I'll kick it in!"

She had not seen him since her return, as Abby had enthusiastically offered to pick Ziva up at the airport last night before the Israeli could ask Gibbs to do it. She had called him to let him know she was home safe and sound, and had asked him to come over for their usual Saturday dinner tonight. She had not let on that she had a hidden agenda.

She hurried the last few steps and pulled the door open without even looking through the peep hole. _What on earth could have happened?_

"Gibbs," she started. "What is wrong?" Her voice conveyed the concern that was also written on her face.

He stormed through the door then rounded on her as she closed it.

"You tell me," he practically snarled.

"I have no idea," she answered truthfully, completely off balance by the fury and – _hurt_? – rolling off him in waves.

"Why are you trying to get off my team?" he bit out, his eyes blazing with emotion. "And why the hell did I have to hear about it from Vance?"

Ziva froze. _Oh, God. _This was not how this was supposed to go at all. _No, no, __no__ - ! _She had plans; plans that included a candlelight dinner – the table was already set, the candles waiting to be lit - some bossa nova playing quietly on her stereo and, of course, her sexy new lingerie. Oh, and somewhere along the line sharing her feelings in hopes that he would admit to returning them. All of that would have come before she got into informing him that she had possible solutions to his famous and heretofore intractable Rule 12.

"Is that what dinner is about tonight?" he challenged her. "So you could break the news to me?"

"Yes," she started, then shook her head. "No."

She couldn't get her thoughts straight in the face of his emotions.

"Which is it, Ziva?" His voice was hard in a way she'd never heard from him, not directed toward her.

Reining in her own churning emotions, she offered, "It is both, I suppose. I -"

He cut her off and stepped into her personal space until there was only an inch between them. "Why, Ziva? Why?"

She had never liked feeling on the defensive, so she led with what she usually did in those situations: her temper.

"Your sacred rules, that is why," she snapped, her eyes flashing.

"My rules? What do those have to do with this?" he pushed, almost shouting in his fury – and his gut-churning fear.

Despite her best intentions, her tenuous control on her temper slipped.

"Because I love you!" Ziva practically yelled, her eyes nearly black with emotion. "Though at this very moment, I am struggling to remember exactly why!"

She missed the stunned look that came over his face as she planted both palms flat against his chest in an attempt to move him away from her. When she couldn't budge him, she let out a sound of frustration and used the force to push herself off, spinning away from him muttering in Hebrew. He had no idea what she was saying, but it sounded far from complimentary.

She managed to get two steps away before he came out of his stupor.

"Oh, no you don't," he muttered, grabbing hold of her upper left arm.

In one fluid movement, he hauled her back until she was flush against his chest, tangled his other hand in her long hair and yanked down on it to force her face up so he could take her mouth in a blazing hot, possessive kiss.

After a shocked second, she was kissing him back just as ferociously, both of them fighting for dominance in the kiss. Then, inexplicably, her lips softened beneath his, welcoming him, gentling him. The tenor of the kiss changed in a heartbeat, losing none of the heat, but becoming tender … worshipful … loving.

She slipped her arms around his neck, the fingers of one hand sliding into the hair at the back of his neck. His large hands shifted to span her slim waist and then smoothed their way up and down her back, molding her to him.

When they finally pulled apart for air, she leaned her forehead against his chin, struggling to calm her racing heart.

"Okay. Perhaps that is one of the reasons," she breathed.

"Maybe we should do it again, just to be sure," he murmured in a low voice that sent shivers along her spine.

He gently cradled the back of her head in one hand, and softly captured her lips again. The contrast to earlier could not have been greater, but this kiss was no less profound. Their lips slowly explored, tasted, tugged … then the kiss deepened as their tongues teased and stroked, fanning the flames of the desire between them that had been on a slow burn practically since the day they met.

This time when they separated, she buried her face against his neck, inhaling his scent, letting it wash over her senses.

"Well?" he asked, bending his head to nuzzle the side of her face with his chin.

"Definitely one of the reasons," she decided softly, her lips curving against his skin.

He grinned, finally able to breathe again even though he didn't yet have all the answers he needed. He'd been slowly suffocating ever since Leon had called him at home to ask if he knew that Ziva had an appointment to interview for a different job at NCIS – and that someone in Human Resources had received a call from a friend at a private security company inquiring discreetly about Special Agent David, off the record.

Gibbs hadn't even stopped to think. He'd thrown down the sander he'd been using, grabbed his jacket and driven to Ziva's like a madman.

He bent and placed an arm behind her knees, scooping her up in his arms. Moving to the couch, he sat with her on his lap, cradling her to him as though he'd never let her go. She hoped he never would.

"Thought you were leaving me," he admitted quietly, his lips against her hair.

"Silly man," she murmured in a voice that could only be described as sultry. Her teeth scraped his ear lobe. "I was trying to figure out a way to get closer to you." She pulled his mouth to hers again, breathing against his lips, "This close."

She kissed him again, soft and warm and clinging. The moan he couldn't hold back sent satisfaction slamming through her. Her lips slid from his mouth, along his jaw and down his throat. Her tongue came out to taste him, to tease him and his breath caught in his chest. She pushed his casual brown Carhartt jacket off his shoulders and down his arms so she had easier access to more of him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he managed in a husky voice, his hands roaming over her, luxuriating in the feel of the silky material between his rough hands and her toned body. He was itching to get his hands under the robe, but hesitated to move too fast there.

Ziva pulled her head back to look into his incredible blue eyes, her hand coming up to caress his face. "I was planning to," she assured him. "Tonight. After I had wined and dined you … and kissed you … and admitted that I am in love with you." She placed her lips against his ear. "And maybe even after I had shown you my new underwear."

He swallowed – hard – and shifted as his jeans became even more uncomfortable. She chuckled softly, alluringly.

"New underwear?" he managed.

"Mmhmm," she drawled, nuzzling his throat. "The kind that a woman wears when she hopes her date will see it."

He groaned and captured her mouth again, practically swallowing her whole.

"This was a date, huh?" he breathed across her lips when he let her up for air.

She nodded, then her eyes took on a definite twinkle.

"Well, it was supposed to be. Then you threatened to kick in my door and the order of things got a little …" She cocked her head to one side, her face scrunched adorably. "… mixed up."

He had the grace to look sheepish. "I kinda panicked."

"I kinda noticed," she copied with a knowing smirk, which earned her a pinch on her ass for being saucy.

"How long you been planning this?" he asked, his fingers tracing along the V neck of her robe, imagining what could lie beneath.

"In some ways for months," she admitted, then she looked directly into his eyes. "Eight months to be exact." She waited for the significance of the time frame to hit him. Realization dawned in his eyes when it did.

"Specifically, I have been planning this particular night since just before I went to see Alona again. The first time I visited her months ago, she told me I should pay closer attention to the feelings I had for you; she could tell I cared far more for you than one would for a coworker or even for a friend. She was right.

"She also said that I would know when the time was right to do something about that. I decided that time had come, so I went back to Costa Rica for a pep talk and to check further into a job offer she has made to me several times in the last few months."

"You're moving to Costa Rica?" he asked, the panic starting to grip him again.

She saw it and immediately pressed her hand to the side of his face soothingly, rubbing her thumb gently over his cheekbone. Looking him straight in the eye she shook her head. "No. Her father's company has offices all around the world, including DC. They are interested in having me work for them here at this office."

"Don't want you going anywhere," he admitted, looking troubled.

She cleared her throat gently. "Hello? Rule 12?"

He sighed and buried his face where her shoulder met her neck. "Like working with you," he mumbled.

"I love working with you," she admitted, hugging him close. "And I will miss being the investigator that you have taught me to be if I have to leave that. But I love you more than the job, so I am willing to do whatever I have to - if you want to be with me, too, that is."

"If?" he asked in disbelief, raising his head to look into her eyes. "You mean you can't tell?"

She gave a small shrug and this time was her turn to hide her face against his throat. In a voice he had to strain to hear, she explained, "I am still not sure that I am all that lovable … but I hope I am … for you."

He speared his fingers into her silky curtain of hair and tugged gently but insistently until she looked at him. Her beautiful brown eyes revealed a mix of worry and uncertainty and longing.

"Told you eight months ago you were," he reminded her. "Loved you then and still do."

Her breath caught. "Would you say that again?" she whispered.

His face gentled and his eyes softened with all the feelings he'd hidden from her finally on display. "I love you, Ziver. Always gonna love you."

Everything she felt for him rose up within her, turning her eyes to brilliant. "You are sure?"

One corner of his mouth turned up in that smile that made her want to nibble on his lips. "I'm sure."

She tightened her arms around his neck and a light joyful noise escaped her as she pressed the side of her face to his. "I love you so much. I have forever … even when I was burying it, certain you would never return my feelings."

"I'm sorry," he told her, breaking another rule. She looked at him in surprise and opened her mouth to remind him not to apologize.

He laid a finger over her lips, then smoothed it lightly over their pink softness.

"Loved you for a long time, too," he admitted. "Maybe if I'd told you, you wouldn't have gotten involved with Cruz." He laid his forehead against hers. "I hated when you were with him."

"I am sorry that was hard on you," Ziva murmured tenderly, bringing her fingertips to gently caress his face.

"I never gave you any reason to do anything else," he pointed out. "But when he hurt you, I wanted to tear him apart."

"The most important thing you could have done then – the most important thing you _did _do – was to be there for me that night when it all fell apart," she told him. "I cannot tell you how much I needed that, how much I cherished it."

"But –" he started.

"Gibbs." Then she smiled at him, a teasing glint coming into her eyes. "Though perhaps I should call you Jethro now that I am sitting half-naked in your lap, hmmm?"

"You can call me anything you want," he growled against her ear, running his hand down her body, "especially when you're sitting half-naked in my lap."

She grinned and kissed him again just because she could. Then she returned to their conversation.

"I was more in love with the idea of being in love than I ever was with Ray. I could not have ever truly loved him; that spot was taken," she admitted with a meaningful look into his eyes. "And I was mostly upset with myself for nearly settling for less than what I really wanted, remember? Yes, I allowed myself to get involved with him, to care for him because I thought you were permanently off limits and that you could never love me even if you were not. But that is not your fault."

"It's my rule," he pointed out somewhat bleakly.

"That is true, but rather than hide behind a relationship with Ray or anyone else, I could have done before what I am doing now - pursued what I felt for you, even if that meant changing jobs," she returned. "But I was so certain I was not your type - that perhaps I was not anyone's type – that I could not risk it, could not take the chance that I might lose you altogether."

"What changed?" he asked, holding the back of her head and rubbing gently, much as he had that day when he'd asked what he could do for her.

"Alona has helped guide me through that mine field a great deal. And you and I have become even closer over these last few months, to the point that I thought maybe you could see how good we are together and how much better we could be." She lifted her shoulders slightly. "So, I decided to take Rule 12 off the table and give it my best shot. Even if you did not feel the same way, at least I would not be living with the regret that I had never tried."

"Thank you," he husked, brushing his lips across her hers.

"For what?" she smiled, smoothing the backs of her fingers over his cheek.

"For being strong enough to take that risk," he told her. "I love you, Ziva. Never doubt that."

"I love you, too," she responded without hesitation, "enough to do whatever I have to in order to be with you."

"Maybe I was wrong about Rule 12," he offered slowly. "At least where you're concerned."

She looked at him in feigned shock.

"You – wrong? Surely not."

She loved the grin that stole over his lips.

"Just 'cause it doesn't happen often," he pointed out with mock arrogance, "doesn't mean it's impossible."

She threw back her head and laughed delightedly. When she gazed back into his face, she was arrested by the reverence and the smoldering heat she found there as he couldn't take his eyes off her.

"God, you're beautiful," he husked.

She melted.

"I am glad you think so," she whispered, brushing her lips across his.

"I'm not the only one who does," he felt compelled to point out.

"But you are the only one who matters," she informed him softly, certainly.

He couldn't help but wrap her closely once more and kiss her brainless at that comment.

When he let her up to breathe, her eyes were hazy with desire and her mind was filled with thoughts of only him.

"I want forever with you, Jethro, because you are the only one who will not leave me feeling like I am simply settling," she admitted in a voice gone husky with the force of her emotions. Then her eyes took on a playful glint once again. "However, I will give you time to get used to that idea."

He huffed out a chuckle.

"Don't need time," he informed her, nuzzling his face in the V created by her robe.

"You don't?" she whispered, hope rising within her heart.

"Nope," he murmured against the skin of her chest. "Had enough of that already."

He became distracted by her silky skin and his tongue couldn't resist coming out to trace along the very edge of her robe, causing her breath to catch and her head to swim.

"Do you remember my new lingerie I mentioned?" she breathed into his ear in a sexy voice.

He stilled, then nodded, his head still buried against her.

"I am wearing it right now."

Every ounce of blood in his body headed south at her provocative words and he tried swallowing down the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. His head lifted and his fingers actually trembled lightly as they came up to trace the deep V of her robe again.

"Can I - ?" His voice was no more than a rough whisper and he couldn't even finish his question, but she understood.

"Why do you think I mentioned it?" she asked seductively, nuzzling her nose against the side of his face.

His gaze snagged and held hers as he nudged one side of her wrap open far enough to allow him to see what was hiding underneath. He nearly swallowed his tongue when he looked down and saw the silky black confection against her skin, the curves of her breasts tantalizingly revealed.

A feline smile stole across her face. "It appears you like what you see."

He nodded, robbed of his ability to speak at first.

Unable to help himself, he nuzzled between her breasts, pleasuring them both.

"And you smell good," he all but growled. " That new, too?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, pleased that he had noticed and that her preparations were having the desirous effect, even if the order of things hadn't quite gone as she'd planned. "I was hoping it would help you find me irresistible."

"Don't need anything extra for that," he informed her heatedly, looking up into her face without lifting his head. "Not that I'm complaining." His wicked grin sent her heart pounding. Her eyes darkened and she bent her head to capture his lips once more.

Just then the timer went off on the stove announcing that the lasagna was ready. She was startled, having completely forgotten that dinner was still in the oven.

"It appears that dinner is ready," she announced with a light laugh, recovering quickly and running her hands through his hair and down his back. "Are you hungry?"

His eyes took on a decidedly devilish look. "Oh, yeah," he admitted in that low voice that made her stomach clench and moisture pool between her thighs.

He brought his lips to her throat, kissing, sucking … licking his way up to her ear.

"Ya know, maybe we can still salvage your plans for the date," he suggested softly. He pulled back just far enough to look at her, those mesmerizing blue eyes of his gleaming as he continued. "After all, should probably eat to keep up our strength for later – but how 'bout dessert in bed?"

She laughed alluringly again, enchanted with this sexy, playful side of him.

"What an excellent idea," she congratulated him, pulling his mouth to hers once more.

"Will you wear this for dinner?" he asked softly when she'd released his lips, running his fingers along the silk of her robe.

"If you like," she agreed softly. "Will you stay with me tonight? All night?"

His eyes held forever as his gaze met hers. "Just try and get rid of me."

Her gaze softened. "I do not want to. Besides, I like waking up next to you, remember?" She smiled and traced his features with her fingertips as she took them back to that night eight months ago that had been their turning point, in spite of the circumstances surrounding it.

"That's mutual," he reminded her, bending his head and planning a brief kiss on her lips.

The look on his face was full of tenderness, even as it turned thoughtful, then determined.

"Not sure what's best about work, but we'll figure it out," he promised quietly, firmly. "One thing I know for sure, though."

"What is that?" she asked with small smile.

"Nothing's more important to me than waking up with you from here on out." His eyes held nothing but truth.

"It is the same for me," she whispered.

He pulled her in for a kiss that said everything he hadn't yet, then they stood up from the couch. They had dinner by candlelight with that jazz she liked playing quietly in the background. The conversation flowed easily and was punctuated by a fun, flirty sizzle and too many kisses to count.

She never made it into her little black dress, but the green silk robe was a good choice, too, she decided, if the hunger in his eyes as they roamed over her was anything to go by.

The leftovers were put away in record time and then Ziva held out her hand and led him to her bedroom. She enjoyed every delicious moment of unhurriedly stripping off his clothes before pushing him to lie back onto her bed. Standing before him, she slowly opened, then dropped her robe, unleashing the full effect of that black teddy. His heart tripped, then started beating double time just looking at her. And to think he got to keep her …

She crawled up him seductively, rubbing against him suggestively, until she was braced over him with a look that was both triumphant and hot. She had but a moment to revel in the glorious feeling of having him beneath her with only a scrap of silk between them before she found herself flat on her back and their positions reversed.

Well. That worked, too.

Gibbs took great pleasure in kissing the smug grin off her face and reducing her to barely-coherent noises with his hands and his mouth all over her. He couldn't get enough of her – knew he never would.

He'd been so desperate, so panicked on the way over here, certain he was losing her. Thank God, he'd been wrong.

The truth felt nothing short of a miracle and he was going to spend the rest of his life telling her, showing her that she was indeed lovable and that he was the luckiest man on earth.

Maybe he should make a rule about that, too.

* * *

><p><em><span>AN: And so, here we are at the end. Thank you so much for reading and extra hugs to all of you who reviewed, favorited and alerted this story - a story I honestly never expected to write. The truth is that scene where she told him she loved him for the first time by yelling it at him came to me and I simply had to write it. :p _

_Here's a shout-out to my friends and fellow Zibbs-shippers MollyGibbs101 & writingjustforfun who deserved one in the first A/N as I am quite sure you are out there reading and loving this story, as well. =)_

_Lastly, this chapter is especially dedicated to Sarah Withers and Cherokee Jedi who responded to my 3am e-mail and read over 9,000 words as quickly as possible, all in an effort to reassure me that my sudden panic attack was for naught. How lucky am I to count you both among the true friends I have made as a result of venturing into the world of fan fiction. xoxo _


End file.
